


don't cry cherry bomb

by fcllencngels



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drinking, Established Relationship, Galaxy Garrison, M/M, Nicknames, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Slow Burn, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, tbh a whole mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-22
Packaged: 2019-06-30 23:46:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15762213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fcllencngels/pseuds/fcllencngels
Summary: Believing in Keith Kogane has become a superstition, but once upon a time, there was an officer and a cadet, one already touching the stars, and one destined to reach them, each determined by fate to be someone. This is their love story, the beginnings told under a drunken stupor only possible by someone who's experienced it all, and relives it, day after day, because that's all he has left.





	1. Prologue: If I make it through this year, I think I'm gonna put this bottle down

**Author's Note:**

> tbh this is a giant mess, and if i'm being completely honest i don't love it a whole lot because there was so much more i wanted to write and it should've been a whole lot better but because of circumstances, i didn't get to spend as much time as I wanted on it. 
> 
> but this is my 2018 SBB fic, and I always love being a part of this so I'm glad that at least I finished. this is dedicated to my best friend anna, and my other pain in the ass best friend andrew. i love both of you n your shitty memes and the fact that you both thought it was stupid that i spent hours writing this.
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy

The first time Lance McClain ever met the infamous Keith Kogane was atop the Galaxy Garrison roof, staring up at the moon like a drunk romantic.

It’s cliché how disappointing the Garrison security patrols were, but what was more cliché was that Keith was a drunk romantic staring up at the moon. He had a half-empty bottle of tequila in his hand, and his face was painted a dusty pink that made him almost pretty.

Keith had turned and asked him who he was, Lance didn’t bother replying, and they shared the remaining alcohol in silence before going their separate ways.

The same thing happened again the next week, and every Monday after that. When Lance felt a little homesick, or especially burdened by the expectations of the Garrison, he climbed the stairs to the roof, and found Keith sitting there, staring up at the sky. It was a comforting routine, and Keith was a surprisingly amenable partner as the two drank away, Lance’s gaze trained on the horizon, and Keith’s up at the stars.

Lance knows little about Keith. He recognizes his face from the simulator, displayed right under Takashi Shirogane’s, so Lance respects him. Through the grapevine, he’s heard that Keith is as smart as he is fast, and that he’s got a someone he’s waiting for. But the boy besides him on dusky Monday nights is a stark contrast from the image passed around the school. He’s heard that Keith is brash and temperamental, too emotional to hold back his punches, but the dark haired male sitting besides him simply sits and drinks, and on special days, hums a tune under his breath.

So Lance comes back, week after week, out of curiosity and because Keith never fails to bring a drink.

And one week, Lance climbs the stairs, body heavier than he could have ever imagined. The news of what had happened had spread quickly, and he needed a drink.

He finds Keith in the same place as always, sitting comfortably on the roof, jacket draped over his shoulders as he takes a swig from the bottle besides him. Lance notes that this week, it’s a bottle of Fireball, strangely fitting for Keith, and when he sits down, he hears Keith’s voice for the second time in his life.

“I broke the last sim record today.”

It’s a simple statement, and Lance takes the bottle from Keith without a second thought. He wonders for a brief moment why he hadn’t heard about this, but as the bitter taste of alcohol overwhelms his throat, he remembers the two flashing words at the bottom of every television screen in the Garrison.

“Congrats man. It’s a shame Shirogane won’t ever know.”

The reply makes Keith pause, bottle halfway to his lips, and Lance watches him stop, take in a deep breath and swallow. Lance wonders then what Shirogane means to Keith, because Keith stares up at the moon again.

“I think….” Keith starts, his voice cracking ever so slightly, “I think he already knew.”

It makes no sense given the situation - after all, there’s no way that Keith hasn’t seen the announcement earlier that afternoon, even if he had been in the sim - and Lance watches him take a few swallows of alcohol, framed by moonlight and misery.

After all, Takashi Shirogane, Matthew Holt, and Samuel Holt were declared missing, presumed dead due to pilot error. The Kerberos mission was a failure, and Shirogane, the golden boy of the Garrison,was now an embarrassment.

“It’s also my birthday.” Keith declares tiredly, as if the weight of the world is too much for him to bear and Lance looks at him curiously. He’s sat here, in the same spot, twelve times already, and never heard more than a single sentence from him, and all the sudden, he’s forced into a conversation he hadn’t been expecting.

“Nice.” Lance finally replies, and Keith hands him the bottle. “How old are you man?”

“Twenty-one. Not illegal for me to do this anymore.” Keith laughs, “So, this time I brought more.”

With that, Keith points behind them, and in the corner, Lance spots a small cooler, propped open with a brick. Lance can barely make out the lids of several familiar drinks, and a small, subdued voice inside his head warns him of alcohol poisoning. It looks like a long night, but it’s been a long day, and Lance can barely find the energy to care. The Fireball is near empty, and Keith finishes it off, capping it tightly before standing up. Lance feels a strange unease, and unlike before, Keith stares at the ground, the mountains, and the desert spread around them.

Lance watches silently as Keith drops the bottle off the edge, as if he was simply dropping it into a trash can, and the silent sound of shattering glass far beneath them is somehow peaceful.

Keith grabs a bottle out of the cooler.

“Where do you get this shit man?” Lance asks as Keith pops off the top. As far as Lance knows, the only alcohol on campus is the cooking wine in the kitchen, and the closest store is fifteen miles away, inaccessible to any ordinary cadet.

Not that Keith is an ordinary cadet.

“It’s Shiro’s. He’d always get things from his friends during parties, and he never drank them all. Too harmful for his body or some bullshit.”

Keith’s voice is fond, and Lance raises a brow, clearly questioning. Keith offers no immediate reply, but he swallows sharply, and Lance hands him the bottle to fill the silence. He thinks that maybe that’s the end of the conversation, but then the sound of glass tapping concrete reaches his ears only seconds before Keith speaks up again.

“Shiro is, was, my boyfriend.”

Three words shatters Lance’s perception of the world, and he turns back sharply, and clearly the alcohol has washed away any filters between the two of them because Lance stares at him, mouth agape, because there’s no possible way that the emo boy sitting besides him was Takashi Shirogane’s boyfriend, and he says as much, earning a soft, sad chuckle from Keith.

Lance knows the silence is eating away at whatever tentative bond he’s formed with Keith, so when Keith puts the bottle down, Lance turns to him, and offers him a smile. Keith is lax - tipped back and staring at the sky, and despite his abysmal fashion sense, Lance can sense what someone could have seen in a guy like Keith.

“So,” He starts, earning Keith’s attention. “How’d you two meet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxo, mel
> 
> Follow me on:  
> [Tumblr](http://fcllencngels.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/fcllencngels)


	2. Maybe as time goes on I'll learn to miss it less than I do now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drunk keith is an anomaly and tenses don't exist

Contrary to popular belief, the Garrison was anything but a normal university. There were no freshmen dorms, no easy laughter in the hallways, and very few one night stands. The freshmen were clustered like canned sardines in giant rooms filled with bunks, and the cafeteria menu consists of grey mush and an orange substance they claimed was mac and cheese.

The one stereotype the Garrison managed to uphold were the drinking parties.

So when Keith wandered into a dim room, lit with cheesy disco and fairy lights, he grabbed a cup, filled it, and let himself go. It was only the first day of school, but Keith discovered that he didn’t care. He found himself perched on a counter, and after only a few minutes, he also found a companion.

“You’re going to be shitfaced real quick.” A voice called, and Keith raised a brow in that direction. It’s a girl, tall and pretty, if you were into that sort of thing. She walked over with the confidence that Keith’s seen in few girls, and even though he was sure that she had to have more than a few drinks, he couldn't help but recognize the glimmer of intelligence that lit up her eyes. Keith shrugged, and when she plucked the cup out of his hand, giving it a sniff, Keith watched with subdued awe as she downed the rest of its contents in one go.

“What the fuck.” Keith managed, and it comes out more as a statement rather than a question. She smiled at him, reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle of vodka, offering it to him instead. With slight suspicion, Keith took it, managed to unscrew the lid, and took a swig just to prove to her that he’s not a pussy, and that he’s intent on getting shitfaced.

She laughed instead, and after climbing onto the counter besides him, she plucked the vodka from him and swallowed a mouthful. He stared at her questioningly and she offered him her hand.

“I’m Reyna McClain.” she declared, and Keith shook her hand, surprised that her grip is strong, emphasized by calloused skin. The warm glow of the fairy lights that framed her face highlighted her tanned skin, and Keith couldn’t help but notice the strength behind her grip, accentuated by her looks.

A deadly combination.

“Keith.” he offered, and she flashed a blazing smile in response.

“Well Keith,” she said, offering him the bottle again, “Even though I’m convinced you’re underage, I’m going to give you this and help you find a girl. pretty boy like you shouldn’t be spending the beginning of the year on a kitchen counter.”

He was about to protest that that’s the last thing he could possibly want when he sensed a figure behind him, large and looming. A hand reached between the two and effortlessly plucked the bottle out of Reyna’s grip, earning a whine from her and then occurred to Keith that she was drunk, pink decorating her tanned cheeks.

“I told you to stop stealing my drinks. There’s way too many people here for you to be doing this.” the voice behind them said, and Reyna turned, offering a heartwarming, but drunk smile.

“But _Shiro_ , don’t you want to make this _absolute_ angel feel at home?”

“Angel” apparently referred to Keith because she slung an arm over his shoulders and turned him to look at the most beautiful man Keith had ever seen. It occurred to him then that maybe he was a little drunk too, but he’d be willing to stab anyone who would insult this stranger’s beautiful face.

Keith leaned in, and Reyna does likewise; whatever self control Keith’s managed to maintain disappeared because the words that escape his lips are alcohol induced, completely based on fact, and not at all as quiet as he thought they were.

“He’s pretty. I want this one.”

Reyna howled in response, and Shiro sighed, but if the red decorating his cheeks was anything to go by, Keith’s statement was anything but unnoticed. Shiro managed to shoo Reyna away, and she defiantly grabbed the vodka back before strutting off. Shiro sighed again, and turned to Keith, who was dreamily looking back at him.

“You’re a freshman, aren’t you?” Shiro asked, and Keith nodded in response. Shiro sighed again, turning to grab a water bottle. He opened it and handed it to Keith, who managed to spill a good portion of it as his fingers fumbled around the plastic. He took the time to slowly lap the cool liquid off his fingers like a bad porno, and Shiro ducked his head away.

“You’re going to want to get back to the dorms. Trust me. Tomorrow’s going to be bad for you, you don’t want it to get worse.”

Keith protested, because anything besides being in front of this breathtaking hunk of a man would be worse than his current situation, but Shiro lifted him off the counter, making him dizzy with delight. By the time he realized what’s going on, he’s at the doorway, and Shiro’s arm is leaving his waist. Someone, _Shiro_ , zipped up his red leather jacket, and ruffled his hair.

“Be safe cherry bomb.” he said, before he closed the door, leaving Keith alone in the dim hallway. The muffled music seeping through the closed door tempted Keith back in, but he doubted that Shiro would be anything but disappointed at the prospect. So he turned around instead and somehow, managed to make it back to the living quarters and fall into bed in his pajamas.

The next morning, Keith woke up from blinding lights and an authoritative shout and even with a blaring headache, he stood at attention at the foot of his bed, watching as a familiar face strolled down the line of cadets, stopping in front of Keith’s bunk.

Keith’s more hungover than he’s been in a while, but even he could assess that the pounding in his head couldn’t outmatch the anxious pounding in his chest as he stared at Shiro’s chest, his rank displayed proudly in Keith’s line of sight.

“Cadet Kogane. I see you haven’t made your bed yet. Are you aware what time it is?”

Shiro’s naturally gorgeous in a crisp grey uniform, and Keith forced himself to swallow because it’s only the second day of school and he’s got himself into a shit load of trouble. The fluorescent lights are carving into his eyes but he forces himself to keep them open.

“Yes, sir.”

He’s almost proud of how steady his voice was considering how dry his throat was.

“Brush your hair before breakfast. This is unacceptable.”

Keith managed another “Yes, sir”, before Iverson demanded that they drop into push ups as punishment. Keith didn’t find himself caring all that much because the memory of Lieutenant Shirogane’s was voice thrumming through his aching head, and it’s the best hangover cure he’s ever had.

He rushed to the bathroom as soon as the officers left, and he scrambled to clean himself up before he went to breakfast. The looks he got in the cafeteria are well deserved, and though Keith knew it’s cliche to be hated from the first day in, he couldn’t help himself. Downing the rest of his orange juice in one go, Keith glanced around before walking toward his first class.

 

-

 

Keith finds that life at the Garrison is disappointingly abysmal. As freshmen, they’re prohibited from any _real_ training, and the closest Keith gets to any officer is checking their ID while on guard duty. It’s terrible, dull, and so oppressing that Keith almost, _almost_ , misses the foster homes and their disorganized chaos.

He makes two friends in his first few weeks of school. The first is his bunkmate, a goofy, dark-haired boy named Andrew who, much to Keith’s dismay, seems mostly knowledgeable about pop culture that Keith’s barely ventured into, along with bad Youtube videos. The second is Anna, a girl in his mechanical engineering class, who seems far less interested in the actual engineering and more in the prospect of getting to build anything. She’s tough in the way only 5’4” blonde girls are, and with his two new companions by his side, Keith finds himself entertained by late night study sessions and frequent reruns of The Office.

“You know, Dwight is who everyone strives to be.”

They’re squeezed into the tiny booth nestled between the entrance and exit of the Garrison. Keith’s on guard duty, along with Anna, but it’s nearly midnight, and a car hasn’t entered or left in hours. Andrew’s sitting on the floor, laptop propped up against the window, and while Keith attempts to focus on his calculus homework, his friends chatter away about the symbolism of Dwight’s character.

Keith supposes that there’s something endearing about his friends’ behaviors, especially when Andrew’s eyes quirk up in a strange way as he pushes up the frame of his black glasses to stare back at Anna over whatever their latest discussion entails. Keith notes that it seems that Anna’s chopped off her hair again, her blonde hair barely shoulder length. It reminds Keith of Kurt Cobain, but he keeps that to himself.

“You mean you striving to be like Dwight. Normal human beings don’t.” Anna refutes, and as if to perfectly prove her point, the screen pans to display Dwight driving down the street, fake siren flashing as the sounds echo around the tin building housing them for the night. “Sure he might be admirable in the end, but honestly? You act like that in real life, the only place you’re ending up is in an institute with a straight-jacket wrapped around you.”

As Andrew begins to argue back, Keith lets out a sigh. If he’s being completely honest, he could care less. Derivatives swim in his line of sight even as he stares up and out at the distance, and mindless arguing becoming background noise as something flickers into his line of sight. There’s a pair of headlights, swimming closer to the Garrison, and Keith eyes it suspiciously as they approach. Curfew was hours ago, and as far as Keith knows, none of the officers were away on business.

“Hey. Pay attention. Someone’s coming.”

That pauses the argument between the two, and Anna stands up to look at the window with him. Keith stands up sharply, staring at the vehicle as it rolls closer, windows tinted just enough so that Keith can’t see the figures inside. It’s an SUV, mud-splattered and seemingly ancient compared to the technology the Garrison boasts, and Keith sets his things down on his seat as he slides the door to the guard post open.

“Who is that?” asks Anna, and Keith shrugs in response.

It pulls up to a creaky stop, and Keith walks slowly towards the driver’s window, standing silently as the window rolls down slowly. He’s met with a headful of fair hair, and the sounds of something not all that coherent.

“ID?” He asks, and whoever it is fumbles around for a moment, muttering to himself before he pulls out a Garrison-issued identification card. Keith takes it, and he glances at it for a second.

‘Matthew Holt’ is printed at the top in neat letters, and Keith hands it back with a respectful nod. He’s a junior, or whatever the Garrison’s bullshit equivalent for a college system was, and even though Keith’s pretty sure that he’s still not allowed out after curfew, Keith decides to call it even when the driver notices Andrew’s face staring out at them.

“Look who it is!”

The voice is surprisingly familiar, and Keith bends down slightly to stare at the passenger seat, where a grinning face meets his own. It’s hard to make out her features in the dark, but she waves at him so passionately that Keith takes the time to remember her. Dark skin, bright smile, and the glimmer hidden in cool, blue eyes. While her companion is dressed in the usual Garrison cadet uniform - orange and white displayed under dim lighting, Reyna’s dressed comfortably, dark jeans and a shirt with her grey officers jacket draped over her shoulders.

“Hey Reyna. Nice to see you. You guys can go in.” Keith says, and he almost misses the form spread across the backseat, clothed in Garrison grey. Under the dim lighting the guardpost allows, Keith can identify someone with a familiar mop of dark brown hair.

As if on cue, Reyna flips off a shoe and chucks it at his head, earning a weary groan.

“Shiro, get up. We’re here. You don’t want Montgomery shitting on you for coming in late again. Matt’s gotta put his car away too.”

For some reason, the trio refuses to move from the checkpoint, and Keith stands awkwardly by the side, framed by his own two friends as he watches the events in the car unfold. There’s a bit of tussling between Reyna and the recently-awakened Shiro over her lost shoe, all while Matt presses his forehead to the steering wheel, muttering under his breath as Reyna successfully reclaims her shoe.

The silence that follows is deafening.

“Um, have a good night.” Keith manages, but Matt’s face is still pressed against the steering wheel, and Reyna is looking back at Shiro with amusement written clearly across her face. It’s hard to see Shiro’s face through the tinted window, but Keith’s sure that Shiro’s staring back at him through the darkened glass. There’s a snort, and Keith closes his mouth slowly, lips pressed together in a line as a silent conversation goes on between the trio, as Reyna looks back and forth between Matt and Shiro.

“I should’ve known that’s the one.” Matt finally mutters, and Reyna finally laughs. Waving at Keith, she smiles, while Matt looks decidedly tired. Shiro has fallen back across the backseat again, and Keith takes a step back as Matt looks off towards the road ahead.

“See you later, Kogane!” Reyna calls, seconds before the SUV starts off in the direction of the upperclassmen dorms, and Keith’s left in a small cloud of dust.

“That was weird.” Andrew says, propped curiously against the doorframe, and Keith sighs, turning back towards them.

“It’s whatever.” Keith replies, but he can’t deny the fact that he’s curious about what just happened as well.

He sees Shiro the next afternoon, holding a tub of what looks like the cafeteria mac and cheese, and though he’s sure Shiro saw him, the officer walks out of the cafeteria as fast as possible. Keith dwells on it for a moment, staring at the exit. Anna looks up from where their homework is spread, and she follows his gaze.

“Something wrong?” she asks, and he pauses, before shaking his head.

“No, it’s nothing. Let’s finish this up before it’s due.”

 

-

 

It’s December when they’re finally allowed to venture into The Room, and when Montgomery finally leads them in, he can’t help the gasp of wonder that escapes his chest.

It’s nothing compared to the rest of the facilities available at the Garrison - in fact, by contrast, he shouldn’t really be all that surprised - but the room, with tall ceilings and simulation crafts strung around in a circle of smaller rooms, is something Keith’s been staring at for months.

After all, he came to the Galaxy Garrison to fly.

“Today, we’ll just be looking around the sims. Allow yourself to become familiar with the controls, and the layout of the craft you’re observing. We’ll be splitting you up into groups of ten, with each of you exploring a specific craft. In the coming weeks, you’ll be allowed to co-pilot with an instructor during office hours. Some of you may be given an exception, but the rest of you will be allowed to begin piloting in the coming semester, with an emphasis on the different branches next year.”

Montgomery’s voice echoes in the silent cavern, and Anna sidles up to him,

“What does that even mean?” she hisses, and Keith rolls his eyes helplessly. Luckily, Montgomery shoots them a sharp look before continuing her explanation.

“As you begin piloting the upcoming semester, we will be monitoring your aptitude for certain situations, and dividing you into two classes: fighter and cargo. Depending on our decision then, you will be able to adjust your curriculum to match the necessary courses.”

Her voice echoes as they walk down and around the room, circling the simulators with only minimal chatter between them. Disappointingly, it seems like most of the sims are empty, with only a small group gathered around one of the smaller ones. Montgomery lets them wander around until the end of class, and Keith takes the opportunity to look inside the sims, taking in the layout resting in front of blank screens while Andrew explains the pilot course to Anna. Keith’s surprised she isn’t familiar with it, but then again, the only thing the girl wants to do is to build robots.

Keith spends the night reading over the requirements for fighter pilots.

 

-

 

Keith gets to spend the next few weeks in relative peace, without the threat of a ridiculously beautiful officer somehow invading his perimeter. Keith’s not sure if it’s coincidence or just Shiro’s conscious effort, but while any other time he might have obsessed over the loss, finals season had started with full force, and he had little time to consider Shiro’s absence.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He can’t say that his first semester at the Garrison has been sub par though. He’s spent the nights huddled in study rooms with Andrew and Anna as they pour over their subjects. Keith had never been a slacker, and the opportunity to attend a university is not lost on him, so he spends months pouring over his books, making endless notes in his copies of _The Iliad_ , _Bhagavad-Gita,_ and whatever nonsense his teachers have assigned.

The months have passed quicker than Keith could have ever expected, and with only two weeks left in the fall semester, Keith’s left with only a handful of finals until he gets a breath of fresh air.

He’s faceplanted against his desk in Montgomery’s class when the sound of footsteps reaches his ears. The room is silent as the rest of the class finishes their finals, and Keith lifts his head just high enough to see someone hand Montgomery a slip and retreat from the class. Montgomery looks at it before sighing and getting up, walking towards his direction.

“Are you done Kogane?”

He nods, and she hands him the tan slip. It’s a standard call to administration, but the timing was impeccable, and he reluctantly takes the slip and stands up. He quickly racks his mind for something that would warrant the attention of the higher ups, and but he’s drawing a blank, and reluctantly, he grabs his bag and trudges toward the door.

He makes his way to the office, and when Iverson’s secretary meets him at the door, he knows something’s up. She’s a petite woman, with her long brown hair tucked around her face in a wrap around braid that makes her seem younger than she is. She’s a sharp contrast to Iverson, soft-spoken and gentle, and Keith’s always found it ironic that the pair work well together.

“By any chance, am I in trouble?” He asks curiously, and she smiles at him.

“Quite the opposite Mr. Kogane. Go right in.”

He raises a brow at her response, but he still walks into the room, stopping only when Iverson looks up from his computer and stares back.

“Sit down Kogane.”

Iverson is as gruff as usual, and Keith sits down in the chair opposite him. There’s an awkward silence, and for a second, Keith wonders if the reason why he’s sitting here is because he’s going to be expelled for yelling at his professor the other day. In his defense, he had had no idea what O’Neill had been saying, because it simply didn’t make any _sense_ , and he hadn’t been inclined to listen to an idiot.

“We have a lot to discuss and not a lot of time to discuss it. We’ve been reviewing the information on cadets we’re interested in setting on the fast track.”

“Fast track?” Keith asks, and if he was sure that if Iverson hadn’t needed him for something, he would have already kicked Keith out of his office. But the anxiety from before is bubbling away, replaced by something akin to excitement. .

“Yes, the fast track Kogane.” There’s a bite of weary sarcasm in his tone, and Keith presses his lips together to hold back the smile that’s forming. “ We want you to graduate in three years with a promotion into the pilot program. You’ll be partnered with someone experienced, and if you work hard, you’ll be lieutenant in at least five years, and on track to go on long-term space missions in around seven. Interested?”

Keith can barely keep his mouth shut. He’s got adequate grades he supposes, and he’s been told his sim scores are respectable, but there’s no way that he’s been selected for something like this - hell, he didn’t even know something like this existed. From what he’s seen, it takes nearly a decade to get to qualify for long-term space missions, if you’re lucky, and he’s stumbling on his words, face red when a sharp knock sounds at the door.

“Come in.” Iverson says, and Keith swallows uncomfortably as he turns his attention towards the door. The door creaks open ominously, and Keith finds himself biting his lip anxiously.

At least, until _he_ walks in. Dressed sharply in his officer’s outfit, and unlike the last time Keith saw him, his hair is combed nicely, and he stands at attention the way Keith realizes he should have when he entered the room. Suddenly the office is too small, and Keith’s shoulders cave under the realization of the situation he’s voluntarily placed himself into.

“Good morning Commander.”

“Good morning Lieutenant. Have a seat.”

Shiro sits down besides him, and Keith shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Iverson clears his throat, and reluctantly, Keith looks up towards him. He looks at Shiro with a kind of respect that Keith hasn’t ever seen, even though Keith’s pretty sure Shiro’s gaze is focused on the way the Commander’s dark beret is slightly crooked.

“Lieutenant Shirogane will be your mentor for the next two years. Two and a half if you include next semester. If you stay on this path and take his advice, I have no doubt you’ll amount to something very soon. Shirogane, I’m expecting you to help him as best you can without disregarding your other duties.”

It’s the closest thing to praise Keith’s ever gotten in a long while, and he nods a little too obediently for his tastes. The taste of victory is bittersweet on his tongue, and Shiro answers politely. When Iverson makes a dismissive motion, they stand up together and move to leave, closing the door behind them with a click. They leave the office completely before Keith turns on Shiro, glaring suspiciously at him.

“You’re my mentor?”

Shiro looks appalled at his sudden outburst, and he crosses his arms before staring down at Keith. The question wasn’t meant to be offensive, but Keith’s simultaneously in awe and concerned. He knows that Shiro’s the best he could have hoped for, but at the same time, he’s also seen him collapsed in the back of a shitty SUV.

“Is that really what you want to say to your superior officer?”

The comment goes unanswered, and Keith brushes past Shiro to head towards either his room or his cafeteria – either sounds fine in his opinion – but Shiro is hot on his trail like he’s honestly invested in Keith’s future. Keith barely acknowledges the other as he walks into the cafeteria. He’s hungry, and just wants food, but he realizes he’s made a mistake when he grabs a tray, setting it down in front of him.

He’s walking in with Takashi Shirogane. Golden boy of the Garrison. Everyone’s eyes are trained on him.

“Shit.” He mutters under his breath, and even the ladies opposite of him give him more generous servings as he walks down the line, as if he could possibly want more of the mysterious brown glop they serve him on a near daily basis, but Shiro is beside him, smiling and thanking every single one of them.  He’s like a leech, and when Keith plops his tray down at an empty table, Shiro sits opposite him with ease.

“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with your other friends? Who is it again? Reyna and Matthew?” Keith interrupts, and Shiro seems surprised that he’s remembered them at all.

“He goes by Matt actually. Plus, they’re like, a thing, so I try to avoid situations where they’re alone and bored. It’s traumatic” Shiro replies, and Keith rubs his forehead in annoyance. Shiro’s eating the Garrison’s mac and cheese (happily at that) and Keith finally caves and stares at the lieutenant. He’s not going to get anything done if he’s got the Golden Boy trailing behind him wherever he goes.

“That’s not the point. Do you have to follow me everywhere from now on?” He asks, and Shiro looks momentarily surprised. He takes the time to finish chewing his mac and cheese, and Keith watches in horror and fascination as some of the goopy mess falls off the spoon. Shiro doesn’t seem to mind, and he swallows another mouthful, oblivious to the watery cheese dripping off his spoon.

“Not everywhere really.” Shiro replies, and while Keith’s barely managed to touch what he thinks is chili on his plate, Shiro’s nearly done with his own bowl of mac and cheese. “It’s been a while since I talked to my mentor, but if I remember right, Iverson is supposed to send me your file, I go over it, help you whenever you need it, etcetera etcetera.”

“Then why are you here?” Keith asks, the annoyance in his voice losing to curiosity, and when Shiro looks up at him with puppy eyes, he knows he’s lost whatever battle this was supposed to be.

“Well…” Shiro starts, “I never really got along with my mentor, and since we’ve already met each other, I was just wondering if, well, if we could be friends too. Since we won’t have that awkward stage, at least not more awkward than it already is, I just figured it’d be easier if we didn’t have to stick to this mentor-mentee relationship.”

Keith considers himself a tough guy. You don’t survive jumping from home to home without picking up an attitude and a couple of tricks, but Shiro’s looking at him like an abandoned puppy, and Keith can’t help but cave.

“Fine.”

Shiro’s face lights up faster than a Christmas tree, and Keith lets out a sigh as he takes a bite off of his own plate. He wonders dimly if there were ever beans in the chili as Shiro’s attention shifts from him to his phone, a notification lighting up the orange screen.

“Aw man.” Shiro mutters under his breath, and he’s standing up, tray in hand. “Uh, I’ve got to uh, go-”

“Just go do whatever it is.” Keith says, and Shiro looks at him gratefully before disappearing again. Anna enters the cafeteria at the same time as he leaves, Andrew by her side, and they make their way over.

“What’s up with Shirogane?” Anna asks, and Keith shrugs again, choosing to abandon the remnants of his chili in favor of the apple Anna pulls from her bag.

“I never really know what’s going on with him if I’m being honest. Anyway, how’d you guys do on your finals?”

The trio pulled out notes, and dissolved into chatter as they compared notes, desperate to pass their respective finals.

 

-

 

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re telling me that you’re going to have the help of _Takashi Shirogane_ ? _The_ Takashi Shirogane? You’re kidding me.” Anna exclaims.

They’re sitting around a pile of chips and textbooks after Andrew’s managed to sneak them all into one of the library’s study rooms after hours. The rest of the compound is quiet, and Keith’s intent on studying for his remaining two finals, but once the rumors had spread about the selections for the fast track, his friends had forced the truth out of him.

“For the fifteenth time, _yes_.” he sighs, and looking up from his physics textbook, he stuffs his hand into the bag of Doritos, pulling out a chip. “Is there something else you want to ask me again or can we focus on this? I want to go over circuitry and mechanics again.”

“How does the whole mentor thing work anyway? I mean if they think you’re smart enough to do all of this, doesn’t that mean it should be enough for you to handle on your own? Or is it like, personal classes? It really doesn’t make any sense.” Despite being the one to sneak them into the study room, Andrew is decidedly doing anything but studying, and he looks up from his phone to glance at them both. As far as Keith can tell, he hasn’t even opened his backpack even though they’ve nearly been in the room for over an hour.

“Let’s face it. Nothing Iverson does really makes any sense.” Keith sighs. “And honestly, Shiro doesn’t seem to mind the whole thing either. From what I can tell, it’s just kind of what we’re doing right now, only with someone who’s already done what I need to be doing? I’m not really sure either, but I’ll figure it out eventually, with or without Shirogane.”

Anna huffs, and Keith gives her a look over his sheet of equations as she stared at him, and the look in her eyes gave Keith the chills.

“You like him.”

“Who?"

“Shirogane. Don’t you? I’m sure you’d love spending time with him and staring at him while he teaches you the thermodynamics of our latest Galaxy Garrison technology inside a dark library room.” she crooned.

Keith was slightly impressed at the fact that she managed to mock the Garrison while making fun of him, but his annoyance at the fact that nothing she had said him would happen won, and his only response was a glare in her direction.

“You know, she’s right. Usually you’re kinda cool y’know? At least in this antisocial emo way, maybe a robot? That’s what some girl in my Composition class said at least. But at the party, you know, the joint birthday party, when you saw Shirogane, you just kinda shut down, your face turned red, and you dissolved into a-” Andrew started.

“First of all, _we’re_ in here because we need to go over thermodynamics in a fucking dark library room. Secondly? We have _finals_ to study for.” Keith cut off, tapping the book in front of him for emphasis. “And last I heard, you guys dragged me here so we could _study_.”

“Yeah, how dare we talk about Keith’s man crush.” Anna drawled. “Let’s talk about centrifugal force instead because it’s _so_ interesting.”

“ _Finals_ .” Keith reiterated, “We have finals, and we do not have to talk about my mentor that is anything _but_ a man crush. And centrifugal force is one of the basics of our fucking mechanics class Anna. It’s on the syllabus.”

“It’s the thing we learned the second week of school Keith. If we’re going to study, can we go over rigid bodies again? You know he’s going to put something about asymmetric tops on the final, and I hate those questions with a passion.”

“Tennis racket theory?” Andrew chimed in helpfully, and Keith couldn’t help but smile as he flipped through the textbook, looking for a series of familiar diagrams.

“Yeah, let’s go over this before we turn in.”

 

-

 

Shiro met him again after his last final. It was nearly a week since he last saw the upperclassmen, and the student population slowly diminished as they wandered home, some to the nearby town, while others travelled farther away. He was leaving his last class - Physics 121 with Professor Agnes - when his phone chimed with a notification.

_[5:43] Shiro: Hey, tell me when you're free_

The texting was a recent development, after Shiro chased after him in a hallway not too long after their lunch, realizing that he had no way to contact Keith besides searching through the directory for his email. The scene had been mortifying for both of them, and after Shiro had left, Keith had walked back to his bed, head down in order to prevent any further embarrassment. It hadn't helped that Andrew had decided that the best way to solve the situation was to watch a mortifying video of white soccer moms rapping for Jesus.

_[5:47] Keith: just finished my last final._

_[5:47] Shiro: Meet me in front of the library?_

_[5:48] Keith: sure_

True to his word, Shiro’s in front of the library’s transparent doors, and he looks up and smiles as Keith approaches. It’s strange not seeing him in his officer’s uniform, but he looks like a normal twenty-one year old, dressed in black jeans and a clean white shirt.

“Hey.” Keith says in greeting as he approaches closer, and Shiro’s smile is blinding. He tips his head towards the direction of the cafeteria. “Want to have lunch?”

“How about somewhere nicer?” Shiro asks, and forty-five minutes after he agrees, Keith finds himself in a cheesy diner, a plate of cheeseburger and fries in front of him. It’s the best thing he’s seen in months - possibly years - and he takes a bite and relishes the taste before turning to Shiro, who’s focused on his own plate.

“Why aren’t you going home with everyone else? Isn’t there family you want to visit?” Keith asks, looking up at him over his burger, and he’s forced to wait until Shiro’s done taking a sip of his drink for an answer.

“I’m staying for another week or so. I’ve still got some things to finish up before I head to Japan for the summer.” Shiro says simply, but he raises a brow in Keith’s direction. “I feel like I should be asking you the same. Freshmen are dying to get off campus, but you’re still here.”

“Don’t have anywhere to go to. ‘S no big deal.” The truth comes out easier than Keith expects, and he shrugs, leaning back against the booth seat. Shiro looks momentarily surprised, but doesn’t say anything, and Keith’s thankful for it.

“Let’s hang out then. There’s not many people on campus right now, and I bet your friends have gone home too.”

He’s right - Anna and Andrew live only two hours away from each other, so they had boarded the leaving craft together and waved to Keith, only after Anna had tucked a condom into his pocket, slapped his ass, and ran away cackling.

_“Have fun while we’re gone!”_

Traitor.

“Yeah, sure, that sounds great.”

Shiro took him around town, and though Keith had been there a few times before, he had never gotten to explore the area. They visited the theatre, and after arguing about which movie to watch, they decided on a thriller. Shiro buys them popcorn and a drink, and Keith learns that Shiro is terrified at every jump scare. After a few minutes, the popcorn was nestled on Keith’s lap instead, if only to save the clean-up crew some work.

Keith learns that Shiro received his officer commission in his junior year, and was promoted only this year.

Keith learns that Shiro’s parents were foster parents, and that he knows more about the system than anyone else Keith has ever met.

Keith learns that Shiro’s a little clumsy despite his physique, and that he’s permanently banned from the kitchen at home because he’s set off the alarms on more than one occasion.

Keith learns that Takashi Shirogane isn’t an icon, but a normal person with the kindest heart imaginable.

They find a park, nestled within a quiet residential neighborhood, and Keith watches as Shiro plays with a little boy, chasing him around the small playground as the boy screams in glee. It’s a strange, domestic scene Keith had never imagined being in, but Shiro is a pro, coming to the boy’s aid when he trips and falls, even before his mother has realized what happened.

“You’re great with kids.” Keith comments as they walk back to the transport station. The sun is setting, and Keith’s hands are stuffed deep inside the pockets of his jeans as he stares at the sidewalk in front of them.

Shiro laughs softly at that, and the sound forces Keith to look up at him, the sun highlighting his face. He seems content, softer without the sharp grey lines of the Garrison uniform to harshen his appearance. Like this, Shiro seems like any other person.

“I guess I am.” he replies. “I grew up alone, since I was an only child, and I didn’t have any cousins either. I was a little older before my parents started fostering kids, so I really wasn’t around when they were there either. So people always thought it was weird that kids love me.”

“Ah, so the Golden Boy of the Garrison was spoiled since youth.” Keith teased. “That makes sense.”

Shiro sputters at that, and the station comes into view, complete with a craft waiting patiently for passengers. It’s an hour’s drive back to the Garrison, and Keith almost forgets that they’re going together, mentor and mentee.

“What about you? I get the feeling that kids would like you too.” Shiro asks, and Keith makes a noncommittal noise.

“I guess. It really depends on the kid. And the situation. When you’re in the system it’s hard you know?”

Shiro hums thoughtfully, and Keith realizes that Shiro knows little about his past, and that despite the recent development, he still knows little of Shiro’s.

The inside of the craft is...cozy to say the least, and Keith nestles himself in the back corner, and Shiro takes the time to sit besides him. Several other people board, but there’s enough space for Shiro to scoot over so that their thighs aren’t touching.

He doesn’t, and when Keith falls asleep, his head slumping against Shiro’s shoulder, Shiro says nothing until they’ve traveled back at the Garrison, framed by harsh street lights and the night sky.

Shiro leaves the Garrison a week later, and Keith wakes up that morning to three texts, but only one catches his eye.

_[7:33] Shiro: [1 image attachment]_

_[7:34] Shiro: Go have some fun this summer! And make sure to keep in touch!_

In the picture, Shiro is framed by passengers making their way to their respective boarding gates, but his smile lights up the screen. Keith doesn’t bother replying, but when he turns over to go back to sleep, he can’t help but smile.

* * *

“But there’s not a happy ending to this story, is there?” Lance asks, and Keith laughs.

“You know better than that. After all, you’re witnessing the _not_ happily-ever-after.” Keith replies. “After all, that’s only half of the story. Drink?”

Lance accepts the bottle with a drunken sad sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xoxo, mel
> 
> Follow me on:  
> [Tumblr](http://fcllencngels.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/fcllencngels)


	3. Think I'm gonna tell him that I'm gonna go away for a while

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> all you need to know is that they're in love.
> 
> thank you my [artist](http://mose-doodles.tumblr.com) who's recreated my favorite scene to write.

The summer goes as well as can be expected, considering that he’s eighteen and staying in the middle of nowhere with an old foster parent that had invited him for the summer. When he leaves for the school year, the awkward side hug pressed against him as he had walked out the door under his “dad’s” watchful gaze, he’s not all that regretful of the fact that the only thing he’s done over the summer is sleep on top of his physics textbooks (as if learning by osmosis was genuinely possible) and send random texts to Shiro.

It’s been years since he’s gotten to see heads or tails of his dad, but it’s when Keith had received a call from his social worker, he jumped on the opportunity to visit his old foster parent, even if it’s in the middle of the desert, an hour away from the Garrison. The shack is sketchy, and the phone signal is sketchier, but Keith tolerates it.

He’s ridiculously excited to see Shiro again, and he’s been promised a present from Japan, since Shiro had opted out of summer training to spend two months in a maddeningly beautiful country that Keith has only gotten to experience through a plethora of Snapchats at all hours of the day.

It’s been a strange change in their relationship. Even though Keith knew that Shiro truly meant for them to be friends from the start, and their friendship had developed over the remaining semester, it seemed easier to talk to him over sporadic texts and funny videos in their own respective areas. Keith hadn’t been able to spend time with his dad in years, so his summer had been filled with quiet hours spent in the outdoors, while Shiro happily spent the days reminiscing with family, and sending Keith pictures of food and scenery that were postcard worthy.

In their few months away, Keith has come to crave Shiro’s good morning selfies and god-awful puns accompanied by pictures that could be clearer. He misses the sight of Shiro’s blurry early morning selfies before he goes on a jog, or the occasional phone call once he had returned to the States.

It takes him an hour to reach the Garrison by bus even though it only takes a quarter of that time speeding across the desert on Shiro’s hoverbike, something he’s discovered after one particularly adventurous afternoon with Shiro’s reluctant permission. Even then, Keith supposes that even asking a ride from his mentor on move-in day is a bit of a stretch. No point in provoking Iverson yet.

He makes it in, and after waiting in a ridiculously long line to get his keys, he travels along the familiar walkways to the housing complex he knows holds his meager belongings that had been shipped the week before.

An actual dormitory is a fresh breath of air when compared to the cramped living conditions of the previous year, and Keith wonders silently whether it’s the benefits of the fast track or just plain luck that he’s been able to stay in a room by himself when it’s meant for two. Not that it matters really, since he’s sure his friends will make it their mission to take over his bedroom.

His key card pressed against the panel besides the door unlocks it, and as the door slides open, he finds a brown envelope on the ground, somehow slipped under the miniscule crack under the door. Keith tosses his backpack on the naked mattress and slips off his shoes before he picks it up. The back boasts two words, written in crisp, slanting letters, and Keith feels a familiar emotion in his chest as he laughs.

_‘Cherry Bomb’_

The nickname stuck after a few well-intended, but terrible puns from Shiro’s end. Though Keith prefers to ignore it most days, Shiro enjoys having a ridiculous nickname for the people he’s dubbed his “close friends.” The thought makes Keith smile, and he slides his index finger under the flap of the envelope, and after prying it open, he finds a two sentences, not worth the dramatics Keith’s been given so far.

_‘Find me after you’ve unpacked. Same room.’_

There’s no signature on the card, save for a smiling stick figure and a photo of what looks like Hokusai’s _The Great Wave_ , but Keith doesn’t need one, and rather than start unpacking, he grabs his key card and walks back out the door.

The path to Shiro’s room is still as familiar as ever, and he ignores the glances he earns from one too many officers before he knocks on Shiro’s door. There’s muffled voices inside, but no reply, and Keith waits for another moment before banging on the door.

The sounds pause, and finally Keith can hear faint shuffling grow louder before the door slides open, revealing Shiro in a raggedy white shirt and sweatpants.

“Hello Lieutenant Shirogane.” Keith drawls, and Shiro looks confused for a moment, but Keith presses in past him. Matt is perched across the couch and Reyna is in his lap, and the pair look ridiculously comfortable despite how contorted their bodies are. Matt barely even glances at him before turning back to his phone.

“You unpacked already?” Shiro asks behind him, and after the door hisses closed, Keith jumps to sit on a shining countertop.

“No. I don’t care though. It’s not like I’m living with anyone this year.” He opts out of including the fact that the only things he has to unpack are his clothes and newly purchased textbooks, but it’s a drab fact that’s easily ignored.

“How could I forget?” Shiro mused to no one in particular. “Keith Kogane, champion of doing nothing but storming rooms and getting drunk.”

Keith blushes at that, because he knows that Shiro is talking about the party, but he refuses to acknowledge his guilt. Shiro smiles cockily and walks over to the fridge, pulling out two water bottles and throwing one at Keith.

“Your ID card opens my door by the way. So stop breaking down my door.”

“I thought you said you’d never let me have access to your room.” Keith rebuts, and he can hear Reyna snorting from across the room.

“I’d rather you not break down my door. I know how bad that temper can get.” Shiro says simply, and something is off, but Keith shrugs it off, taking the time to twist off the cap of the water and tip back a mouthful before turning his attention towards the couple sprawled over the couch. Reyna is whispering something into Matt’s ear that makes him smile even with his gaze trained on his phone. His glasses are askew across the bridge of his nose, and Reyna snatches them up, perching them on her own face before she looks over and waves at Keith.

“Hey pretty boy! Does that mean the parties are at your place this year?” She says with a wink, and Keith laughs when Shiro sighs behind him.

“You know it’s not even big enough for that. I’m only here for my present.” Keith replies, and though it’s barely the answer to her question, Reyna still laughs.

Shiro’s muttering something to himself, and if Keith wants to guess, he’s about ready to kick the three of them out of his apartment, but he still disappears into his bedroom, returning with a small package wrapped in plain brown paper. ‘ _Keith_ ’ is written in careful handwriting on top, and he almost pauses before opening it, but curiosity outweighed sentiment, and Keith tears the carefully folded paper open.

Inside is a book, with a title in Japanese that Keith can’t read at all, but the picture decorating the front is beautiful, a picture of some Japanese painting, and Keith flips through the pages, admiring the images of artworks with neat typed Japanese describing each one.

“I figured you’d be interested in it. I’ll help you read it if you want, but I visited a gallery and they had a little book on everything there. I couldn’t take you, so I figured this was a decent equivalent.”

Keith is silent, but a grin is decorating his face, and he carefully removes the book from the paper when something else clatters out of the wrapping to the floor. Keith jumps off the counter to pick it up, and when he does, he lets out a little gasp of delight. It’s a knife, small enough to be concealed when he wraps his fingers around its length, and when he flips the blade out, the blade is a deep grey, darker than the color of Shiro’s eyes.

The thought makes him pause, and he turns his gaze at Shiro who’s biting his lip nervously.

“I got your name engraved on it, but just enough that you know it’s yours – I know you’re not _technically_ Japanese, or whatever but I thought it would be a great present. I’m just glad I got it through customs, because you have no idea-“

Keith jumps off the counter and wraps his arms around Shiro, who abruptly stops his stammering to look down at him. Matt and Reyna are forgotten in the moment, but Keith knows that they’re probably staring, knowing and yet not knowing all at the same time.

“Thank you, Shiro,” he whispers, and he can feel Shiro’s smile reverberate through him, and Shiro hugs back.

 

-

 

When Iverson mentioned first mentioned the fast track, he’d never thought that it’d come to this.

Keith’s leaving his mandatory counselor session, and as he walks down the hallway, schedule displayed on his tablet, he thinks his head might burst. His first year had allotted for plenty of time in between classes, as well as time to study, but now his schedule is jam-packed with classes, simulation runs, and other “mandatory” exercises, and Keith can’t help it as his shoulders droop on the way back to his bed. He considers taking a nap, since it seems like it’ll be the last time he’ll be able to do anything of the sort.

He stops by Shiro’s room, but after knocking a few seconds, and opening up the door, the apartment is empty, and he leaves reluctantly. He sends Shiro a quick text instead, and he makes a U-turn back to his room slowly.  It takes him a moment to pull out his card and press it to the security lock, exhaustion evident on his face.

“Hey man. How was it?” a voice calls as soon as he opens the door, and he looks up from the orange screen to meet Andrew’s bubbling face. He’s missed him over the summer, but that doesn’t explain how he’s somehow managed to barge into Keith’s room without access.

“How’d you get in here exactly?” Keith asks, a touch of curiosity and annoyance gracing his tone, but Andrew ignores it, opting instead to walk over and pluck the tablet out of his hands. He starts cackling as he glances over Keith’s schedule, the classes mashed up against each other in small, labeled boxes.

“Dude, you’re taking third year courses? Look at this. Aerodynamics, Applied Experimental Statistics, and Aircraft Dynamics and Control all on the same day? And that’s not even half of it! You’re gonna die.”

“Thank you for taking entertainment in my misery.” Keith huffs, and he throws himself against his mattress. It seems as if his plans for a nap were dashed away the moment Andrew broke into his room, and he can’t help but also realize his imminent doom. Shiro had mentioned that it was tough once classes started, but this was nothing compared to simple words.

“Come on Keith. You can do it. You’re the hotshot genius here. And you’ve even got the legendary Takashi Shirogane to support you. You’re going to be the best in the Garrison soon, and be such a cool guy that you forget all about your old, poor bunkmate-”

“-That’s smart enough to break into my dorm room. Shut up already, you’re just talking nonsense. I need a nap.” Keith muttered, turning his head to stare up at Andrew’s dramatic expression. There’s some sincerity to Andrew’s expression, but Keith knows him well enough that when it flickers away, it’s something to address at a later time. “What’s up anyway? I’m guessing something is up.”

“Ahh…” Andrew says, and he pauses thoughtfully, and Keith rolls his eyes. “There _was_ something, but I don’t really remember. I was too busy breaking in. By the way, you can literally just walk in by jamming your card into the sensor.” Andrew supplies helpfully, and Keith shoots him a look.

“Please tell me you didn’t tell _her_ that too.”

“Tell me what?” A voice calls from the bathroom, and Keith lets out an undignified yelp as Anna walks out, pulling up her short hair into a ponytail. It looks like she’s chopped it all off again, and the ends barely reach her chin before they’re pulled away from her face. Keith dimly wonders if this is some kind of odd habit on her end, but he’s distracted by more pressing issues.

“Please, please for the love of God, tell me there’s no one else in this room.” Keith mutters, sitting up as she walks closer and lounges back in his desk chair. Anna shoots him a smirk, and Andrew’s already preoccupied on his tablet, using the internet for “research”.

“Sadly, it’s only me and the idiot. No hunky, perfect boyfriends hiding in the closet today.” Anna chimes all too cheerfully. Keith’s cheeks flush, and the pocket knife resting in his pocket grows heavy with embarrassment.

“We’re not even dating. Shut up.” Keith mumbles, and Anna flashes a victorious smile before glancing at the time. “Both of you get out of my room. I’m not even done unpacking yet and you’ve already barged your way in here. Don’t you two have things to do?”

“We’re not special children on the fast track, Kogane. A five minute scheduling session with fifteen other people in the room is the best we get, and it was done at the end of last semester. We don’t get to live by ourselves, so our unpacking process was relatively quick - at least compared to your procrastinating ass.” Anna teases, and Keith throws his pillow at her in retaliation. “So did you visit Shirogane?”

 _‘Shiro.’_ Keith wants to correct, but his silence is enough of an answer, and Anna gives him a dramatic sigh.

“You’re so fucking whipped for him. I ship it.”

Andrew snorts in the corner, but makes no other reply, and Keith flops back down.

“It’s not like that. Shiro’s just a good friend.” Keith tries. “It's a nice good _platonic_ relationship.”

“ _A nice good platonic relationship._ ” Anna mimics, and Keith doesn’t even bother turning to shoot her a glare. “If platonic means you’d be willing to suck his d-”

“Please, my Christian ears.” Andrew whines.

“I just went over because he got me something when he went to visit his family. That’s not a crime, and nothing is happening, so-”

“What’d he get you?”

“What?”

There was a coy smile decorating her face as she leaned in closer, examining him like one of her projects. She was onto him, and the only thing Keith could do was keep himself stone-faced.

“I know he went on a trip, because you _didn’t shut up_ about it _all summer_. What’d he get you Kogane?” she repeats, and she knows that Keith knows that she’s onto him.

“Just a book about this art gallery he visited.” Keith replied. “And this knife, it’s no big deal. Pretty nice though. I’ll be sure to keep it with my other one.”

Anna only laughs in reply, and when he shoots her a look, she smiles.

“Keith _loves_ Shiro.”

He throws a pillow at her in response.

 

-

 

Classes start faster than Keith could have anticipated, and while his friends leave for their own, Keith finds himself surrounded by upperclassmen who clearly aren’t fond of his presence. There’s one or two others who’ve been selected for the fast track, but they keep to themselves as much as Keith does.

The only help he gets is from Shiro.

Assigning mentors makes more sense now, and the late nights he spent with Anna and Andrew are replaced with afternoon cram sessions with Shiro. There’s no one to blame but himself, and though he doesn’t mind his new lifestyle, he does miss his friends’ useless chatter while he pours over his textbooks.

But if he’s being completely honest, he’d rather spend his time with Shiro, pouring over thermodynamics notes on busy Saturday afternoons in a cozy diner with a plate of fries. Keith almost doesn’t notice how it becomes routine to find Shiro for these weekly sessions, or how he gets to fly through the desert sand with his arms wrapped around Shiro.

Almost.

“You really have the worst luck if you managed to get Iverson for both your navigation and PT class.” Shiro muses over his strawberry milkshake. “I mean, the odds of that are insanely low, and I doubted he requested you as a student. Plus, he’s tough.”

“I think he did. Not me specifically, but all the fast track kids. The other two are in my classes too. Let’s just say it’s awkward.” Keith groans, swirling a french fry in his ketchup. “Plus, I’m the smallest in my PT class, and I have to work twice as hard to even do anything in that class. It fucking sucks. Not as much as my chemistry class though. Every time Wolfe’s mouth opens, I want to fall asleep.”

Shiro makes a noise in reply, and Keith sighs before turning back towards his notes. He’s at least lucked out in getting Montgomery for his thermodynamics class, where not only was Shiro his TA, but also Montgomery’s star student. Keith swore that half of their class time was spent listening to Montgomery brag about Shiro’s accomplishments, all while he sat at her desk, grading their assignments. Shiro denies that he enjoys the praise, but it’d take an idiot to ignore Shiro’s soft smiles every time Montgomery brings something up.

“You know, and I’m saying this unironically, you should hit the gym.”

Keith snorts in response, and Shiro shoots him a look.

“I’m being serious. Your classmates are already older than you, and because they weren’t on the fast track, that means that they’ve had more PT sessions than you. So not only are they taller and heavier, they’ve had more practice in the hand to hand combat aspect.”

“I still don’t understand why I need to be jacked to go to space. If a Martian is going to kill me, there’s nothing I can do about it.” Keith replies. “If a twenty-year old can slam me into a mat, I never had much of a chance in the first place.”

“You’re supposed to be smart Keith.” Shiro drawls, and Keith throws a french fry at him in retaliation, which, annoyingly, Shiro manages to catch with his mouth. “You know that going to space requires more than brains. Zero grav, maintenance, surviving on crappy food for weeks, that all requires intelligence as well as conditioned body.”

“You sound like Iverson now.”

“I’m insulted.”

That finally urges a smile on Shiro’s face, and Keith grins in response.

“Iverson’s not really all that bad though. He’s just got expectations, and from what I’ve heard, you excel at exceeding those - only in the wrong way.”

“Iverson’s too stiff, and even though he’s the one in charge of the fast track, he doesn’t see much potential in me. Said as much too which makes the whole situation ironic. Plus, he rubs me the wrong way. Kind of like those annoying kids in my class last year.” Keith mutters. The only thing he remembered from the navigation course is intentionally breaking from their flight patterns. It never failed to test Iverson’s patience, and Keith had relented only after Shiro had asked him to.

“Anyway, I’m not that worried about it. The rest of my professors like me, at least, I think they do, and that’s enough for me. If I need to work out more I’ll let you know, but I think I’m fine. I’ve just got to finish up this semester, and then I’ll qualify for basic missions. Hopefully something nice. I’ve heard there’s an important one coming up, but I doubt I could qualify for that in time.”

Shiro makes a non-committal noise, and Keith stares at him over their now-empty plates. Shiro’s avoiding his gaze, picking at the paper lining their dishes rather, and Keith smirks before nudging at Shiro’s ankle with his foot.

“You know what the mission is, don’t you? You should tell me. I’ve heard that there might be another one to Mars, and if that’s in a year I could definitely qualify.”

Shiro makes another non-committal noise, which is surprisingly uncharacteristic of him, and Keith stares at him until Shiro looks up from his empty tray to meet Keith’s eyes. He looks guilty enough and that’s enough to convince Keith to figure out his secret.

“You know exactly what it is.” It’s not even a question anymore, and Shiro makes a groan of defeat. If there’s one thing they’ve learned about each other, it's that against Keith’s stubbornness, Shiro rarely ever wins. “Are you part of it? Is it as important as they say? I figured if it was a Mars trip like they kept suggesting, the hubbub about it would have died down by now, but it hasn’t so it has to be _something_.”

“It’s kind of important which is exactly _why_ I can’t tell you anything about it no matter how much I like you Keith. My own career depends on it. They should start releasing public information in about a week or so. So, please, _please,_ let’s keep it quiet until then. I don’t want my falling to pieces about this.”

Keith considers this for a moment before smirking.

“Fine, but I want a favor.”

 

-

 

Keith can’t remember how they got to this point, but he’s not complaining.

That’s not exactly true, he knows that when the news had dropped, when he had discovered that Shiro was going to be the youngest person to pilot a small, three-man craft to the edges of the galaxy, he had knocked on Shiro’s door and demanded that they go out for the night. Matt and Reyna had inevitably tagged along, though Andrew and Anna had denied the offer to join them.

Reyna had suggested a bar, and she and Keith had spent the night dancing under shitty neon lights far enough away from the Garrison to care. He had slipped sips of whatever Shiro was drinking when he wasn’t looking, and stumbled out of the bar with a smile on his face.

Shiro has a car, a real, decent car unlike the hovercrafts in the hangar, or Matt’s beat-up SUV, and they’re speeding down the road with the windows rolled down. The speedometer hovers just shy of ninety miles an hour and though the road curves dangerously at certain points, Shiro has been navigating them with more ease than should be allowed. Adrenaline rushes through Keith’s veins, and he sticks his head out of the window and lets out a wild whoop.

Shiro turns and grins at him, and Keith closes his eyes and lets the wind whip wildly through his hair, and the only thing that can escape his mouth are sounds of joy. He’s sure that if Matt and Reyna were with them, Matt would be chirping on and on about how he hoped Keith’s head would be decapitated by the few street signs, but their friends are far behind them, left at the last intersection they had been at when Shiro had shifted gears and flown off.

Keith decides he likes actual cars.

He reluctantly pulls his head back in when they approach a red light, and Keith’s face is cold from the wind, but Shiro looks at him like he’d just descended from the stars, and Keith gives him a grin in response. His throat is wind-beaten and dry, but there’s something unnaturally refreshing about being driven by starlight-fueled adrenaline.

“I think I’ve reached enlightenment.” Keith declares proudly. “This has to be what nirvana feels like.”

That earns a laugh from Shiro, not a soft one, but one that Keith can tell is honest and true, and they’re the only ones at the intersection, and Keith wants to lean over and capture the remnants of the joy from Shiro’s lips but he chooses instead to lean back in his chair, letting out a happy laugh. It’s too late for anyone else to be wandering the streets, so they’re blissfully alone, basking in the desert chill that’s come to signify freedom.

“Well Buddha,” Shiro says, and despite his efforts, Keith can tell that he can’t keep the laughter out of his tone, “You looked more like a dog than a deity.”

Keith sticks his tongue out at him, and Shiro runs his hand through Keith’s unruly locks, attempting to smooth them down. Their gazes lock, and even though the light turns green, neither of them move. Shiro’s stare sends chills down his spine, and suddenly he’s leaning forward, but so is Shiro, and they meet, not in an explosion of stars, but over Shiro’s center console, and Shiro’s lips are warm against Keith’s own dry wind-whipped lips, and if Keith was enlightened before, he’s ascended into heaven itself.

 

-

 

If you asked him when exactly he fell in love with Takashi Shirogane, he could never give you a definitive answer.

But something about that night in the car, compressed air blocking his eardrums as Shiro kissed him back just as hungrily as Keith had been kissing him had broken the bubble of friendship between them.

The night had ended when Shiro had dropped Keith off in front of the sophomore’s living quarters, and Keith had gone upstairs a little slowly, if only to prevent the moment from ending. It was too perfect, too perfect to be true and the realization had come crashing down as he had laid, staring up at the ceiling.

The warmth spreading through him was an unfamiliar emotion, but he finds he doesn’t care, not when he can still feel Shiro’s lips on his, warm and soft, yet strong enough to turn Keith into a puddle of -

He was in love with him. Takashi. Shiro. Lieutenant Shirogane.

Oh, he was royally _fucked_.

There had to be rules against this, and subconsciously, Keith can already predict the shitstorm bound to happen when Iverson finds out that not only has his mentor program gone to shit, but his star pupil was the cause, all because of a cadet that was too lost in the world for his own good.

He snickers at the thought, but he can’t help feeling the disappointment as it gradually replaces the joy. He can’t be with Shiro, not when Shiro is a rising star with his whole life literally in arms reach. He’s going to be someone, do something, and Keith was supposed to be his little side project to prove his worth. Instead, he’s become something more, and Keith doesn’t know if he can shoulder the burden of being the cause of Shiro’s fall from grace.

He turns on his side, blankets suddenly stifling in the empty room, and Keith jumped out of bed, opting instead to crack his window open and pace erratically across his bedroom floor. He’s got to be dreaming, dreaming that he could be happy with Shiro, that the gentle touches gracing his shoulders could mean something more – they had to mean something more, or else the feel of Shiro wouldn’t be burning into his lips.

“Fuck.” Keith says, and he contemplates jumping out of his window.

It’s then that his phone chimes, and Keith grabs it with a sigh, promising death to whichever idiot decided that texting someone else at one in the morning was a great time for any sort of social situation.

_[1:34] Shiro: Breakfast tomorrow morning? Just you and me._

It doesn’t even take him ten seconds to type out the four letter response, and after tossing his phone back on his bed, he sighs, wondering if the world is out to get him.

_[1:34] Keith: Sure_

 

-

 

Breakfast the next morning is a heap of disappointing pancakes piled on a plate in Shiro’s room. Keith takes the time to laugh, bent over as he holds in the worst of it, and Shiro stares down at him with disappointment as he holds the flipper in his hand, another pancake burning in the pan.

“You know, I worked hard on those,” is all he says before he turns his attention back towards his abomination, and Keith can’t help his grin as he swipes a still-warm pancake, black around the edges, and takes a bite.

“Trust me. I can tell.” he replies simply, and the dirty look Shiro shoots him is empty of malice, and Keith jumps up onto the counter as Shiro rummages around his fridge for some juice, bringing back two cups just in time to place another brown-singed pancake onto the pile. The bubbling anxiety that had kept him awake has disappeared, replaced by a happiness Keith hasn’t felt in a while.

Shiro doesn’t hate him; they’re having breakfast, and it feels like rainbows and unicorns could apparate into Keith’s vision anytime soon. If the idea wasn’t so revolting, Keith would smile.

“I have something to tell you.”

Shiro’s voice is calm, but he refuses to make eye contact with Keith, and Keith fights the bubbling anxiety by picking up another pancake in place of an answer.

‘ _I do too. I think I love you and I want you to kiss me again-’_

“I’m going to be leaving on a mission soon. I mean, it’s not _soon_ , but the preparations began a week or two ago, and we were getting for press releases and stuff and I’m not supposed to tell anyone really, but I mean, I figured that because of last night, you had found out, and  I just didn’t want you to-”

“You didn’t want me to get attached.”

The truth leaves a bitter taste in the air, and Keith slowly swallows the lump of dry pancake in his mouth and the disappointment. He should have known better - there was no way that he was going to get to be with someone like Shiro, no way that someone like Shiro would want to be with someone like him.

“It’s not like that Keith. I swear-”

“Can I say something too?”

His throat is dry, and Keith takes a sip of his apple juice. It looks like whiskey, and a small part of him wished it was. He knows Shiro’s looking at him expectantly, can feel his gaze focused on Keith, and a small part of him wants to turn back time far enough to refuse Shiro’s offer of friendship all those months ago.

“I, I really like you Takashi. And I know that’s dumb because you said that you just wanted to be friends at first but honestly, you’re really hot, and it’s really not fair, but you’re so thoughtful, and you’ve never treated me like shit even when I deserved it. So how could I not get attached? How? _How Shiro?_ ”

His mouth is dry, and the taste of salt creeps in through the corner of his mouth, and Keith realizes that he’s crying, that the bitter taste filling his mouth is from his own tears, and he bites the inside of his lip as Shiro stares at him. For the first time in a long time, Keith can’t tell what he’s thinking, and Keith fights the urge to claw at himself, to scream, to do something to get rid of the nervous energy building in his chest as the silence stills between them, building a bridge that seems to extend farther than Keith could ever imagine.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I didn’t. And...and when I realized what was happening, I thought I could hold it off, and that maybe I could tell you after-”

“After what Shiro? After you spent a fucking year in _space_?”

“I know it sounds dumb. But I thought it would work Keith. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Shiro’s face is sincere enough, Keith supposes. He can tell that much through his blurred vision, and he wipes the tears away angrily with the collar of his shirt. It’s a bright red, and Keith can hear Shiro in his head like he’s saying the words out loud.

“ _Don’t cry cherry bomb._ ”

He realizes then that Shiro is saying them, and that he’s crouched besides Keith’s chair, looking up at him like Keith means more to him than Keith could ever know. Keith sobs helplessly, and when Shiro asks him if he can hug him, he nods, and Shiro’s arms, impossibly warm and comfortable despite the circumstances wrap around him like a promise.

 

-

 

“Does it ever stop?”

Shiro looks at him with a cocked brow, and if he wasn’t so pretty, Keith would have done more than sigh in exasperation. His face is a silent question, and Keith can’t decide whether or not he’s upset or proud that he’s learned to read Shiro’s expressions like a book, so familiar and loved that the pages are dog-eared and soft.

“The disappointment of being terrifyingly mediocre.”

Shiro laughs at that, not a big booming laugh, but a soft, unbelieving chuckle, and Keith scowls in reply, only prompting a grin from his abysmal “mentor”.

“Keith, you’re _anything_ but mediocre.”

The statement is filled with so much passion and trust that Keith stills for a moment, processing the words from Shiro’s lap, his head resting on solid thighs as Shiro smokes a cigar above his head like a cliché mafia movie. In no way is Keith Shiro’s pretty doll, but the position is comforting and the smell of smoke soothes his nerves.

“You’ve seen me. I’m nothing special. Not like you at least.”

Shiro pauses at that, and Keith suddenly wonders where exactly Shiro obtained the cigar because not only has he raided Shiro’s entire room under watchful steely eyes, but also because he wants one, and when Shiro fails to answer, he plucks the cylinder from Shiro’s frozen fingers and places it in his mouth, breathing in and coughing when the smoke goes down wrong.

“Idiot.” Shiro says, but there’s no malice in his tone, and he takes the cigar back with only a huff from Keith in response, but the mood is broken and Keith sits up and stares over at the setting sun.

The roof will always be their place, if it wasn’t evident from the fact that there are blankets and packaged food hiding under the abandoned tarp in the corner, or that there’s memories embedded in every corner, every tile, every inch of the meteorite colored concrete. Shiro doesn’t know, but there’s a polaroid photo taped besides their hidden hoard of snacks. It’s a picture of Shiro waiting for him on the roof. Keith supposes it’ll have to suffice for the months without the real version.

“You’ll forget about me.” Keith says finally, leaned against Shiro’s arm. He’s never been clingy, but he wants to stretch himself across Shiro and kiss him until he promises to stay with him, but he holds back, choosing instead to close his eyes rest his head across the expanse of Shiro’s shoulders. “You’re going to go, and do great things, and when you come back the world will love you, and I know you’ll forget about me.”

The “ _And I’ll be alone_ ” is implied, and Shiro chooses to snub out the cigar against the concrete, disgustingly out of style. Keith scoffs, but it’s tear-choked. Shiro knows and he lets the brown cylinder roll as he presses his lips to Keith’s forehead.

“You know I’ll never forget about you. I can’t forget about you Keith Kogane. You’ve cemented yourself into my very being. You know that.”

Keith does know but it’s not the reassurance that he was craving. So instead he opens his eyes and looks upward, and Shiro is staring down at him like he’s the only star in the sky, and Keith hesitates for only a minute before his lips are against Shiro’s, and he’s kissing him like the world is ending, because his world is ending, and he’s can’t decide whether or not he’s happy Shiro is leaving. Shiro tastes like smoke, heavy against his throat, but there’s a lingering sweetness that’s all too familiar and Keith shakes at the thought that this could be the last time he’ll taste Shiro,

“It’s only a year.” Shiro says in the moments their lips are separated. “I’ll be fine.” Keith doesn’t reply because it feels like he’s heard the words a million times in a million different universes, but he can’t shake the dread that overwhelms him at the thought of Shiro leaving him to travel to the other side of the solar system.

Shiro finally pries him away gently because silent, deadly tears are trailing down his cheeks and Keith forces down the sobs rising in his throat because Shiro looks like he’d ruin his entire future just to make the agony of the moment stop. Sniffling, Keith rubs his eyes until they’re bleary and red, but the concern doesn’t leave Shiro’s features.

He has to be strong, strong not for himself, but for Shiro, and he offers Shiro a weak smile.

“What if you get abducted by aliens? What’ll you do then Takashi? You never listen to my theories, and you’ll be unprepared.” Keith finally refutes, and Shiro is crying then too, but his tears are more happy than sad and he crushes Keith against his massive chest, face buried in Keith’s mop of hair.

“Then I’ll find a way back to you then. I always will.”

Shiro leaves three days later, and whether by intuition or just some regulation Keith doesn’t know about, Iverson prohibits Keith from tagging along to the launch site.

He goes anyway. He has to.

He watches Shiro, walk in, and when the door seals shut, Keith can’t help the sob that wells up from his chest. His fingers clasp around his knife, decorated with his name and gifted to him by the only person he has left.

Shiro will come back. He promised.

 

* * *

 

Lance sits quietly as Keith smiles up at the sky. It’s a sad smile, the smile you give someone when you’re about to cry, and Lance doesn’t say anything as tears drip down Keith’s cheeks. The sun is rising, and the cooler is nearly empty. He’s not sure if he’ll even remember the night when his head touches the pillow, or if he even wants to.

“Shit. I must be drunk. That was way more than I was planning on saying. I promise I don’t talk this much usually.” Keith laughs, and he wipes away the tears on the hem of his shirt. Lance offers him a weary smile, before turning back to the horizon. It must be early morning, and the Garrison is slowly coming back to life, with a few shuttles starting off and disappearing into the distance.

“If it’s any consolation, I doubt either of us are going to remember any of this by tomorrow." Lance offers helpfully. "We drank a shit ton." It's true, and Keith staggers up slowly to pick up the discarded bottles and packaging, moving to stuff them back into the bright red cooler that's more intimidating in the sunlight.

"I don't want to remember anything sometimes. I thought that if I forgot, by the time he got back, it would be like nothing happened in between. Now all I have is lost time."

If anything is lost, Lance thinks it’s Keith, but he stands up, stopping half-way when his vision sways threateningly. Drinking on top of one of the tallest buildings in the city is possibly one of the worst decisions he’s ever made, but he looks at Keith, standing tall, framed by the rising sun.

It’s tragic. Heartachingly tragic, and Lance says nothing as he stumbles away, opening the heavy grey door. Lance turns back, and Keith hasn’t moved an inch, staring at the sun crawling up and over the horizon.

The door closes behind Lance with a quiet click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ao3 would rather....i die before they let me embed the image....i'll continue trying to fix it but please check it out [here](http://mose-doodles.tumblr.com/post/177397376862/one-of-my-doodles-for-the-sheithbigbang-that-i) please.
> 
> xoxo, mel
> 
> Follow me on:  
> [Tumblr](http://fcllencngels.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/fcllencngels)


	4. Epilogue: 'Til I can get this demon out

The last time Lance ever sees Keith is the next Monday night. He takes his time, wandering up the steps and presses open the heavy metal door.

For weeks, the first thing he’d see was Keith’s back, loose as he tipped his head up at the stars, but for the first time, all Lance sees is a bottle of Fireball with a post-it note pressed against its glass body, clear script printed against the yellow paper.

‘ _Thanks_ ’

One word is the only thing he’s left with, and Lance stares at the note before a laugh bubbles from his throat. It takes him a moment to pop open the bottle, and when Lance tips his head back for the first gulp of burning alcohol, he hears the rumble of an engine. 

Swallowing quickly, Lance clambers over to the edge of the roof, staring over its concrete face. He wonders how many times Shiro and Keith had sat in this same exact spot, or how many times his sister had come up to rescue them from the cold, nipping desert winds. He wonders if anyone knows about this place, a little piece far away from the rest of the world, but before he can come up with an answer, the sound of an angry yell fills the air and Lance teeters over the edge as far as he can without falling off. Something whizzes out of the hanger, and Lance watches as a blazing red craft flies away, a familiar flop of hair piloting the thing until it’s gone from sight.

Another figure teeters out of the hanger, and Lance has to squint, but he can vaguely make out Iverson’s frame, hand pressed to his face in pain, and Lance holds back the need to laugh, because without a doubt, Keith Kogane is the stupidest, most ballsy pilot he’s ever met.

By the time the sunlight beams through his window the next morning, the news has spread. In the wee hours of the morning, talented and now legendary senior cadet Kogane escaped the Galaxy Garrison on Officer Shirogane’s hovercraft, but not before punching Iverson straight in the eye. The rumor deviates from there - some say that Kogane had been wearing a ring that had connected with Iverson’s eye, and others say that the sheer force of the punch had damaged Iverson’s nervous system, but with every ridiculous rumor, Lance just laughs, because no matter what it was, Kogane had finally left his mark on the Garrison through the form of an ugly black patch now covering Iverson’s left eye.

No one knows what happened to Keith after he left, and the Garrison is quick to declare Keith as expelled, but no one expected him to return in the first place. The desert stretches far and wide, and it’s unlikely that anyone could find him even if they wanted to. Keith becomes an old story within a few weeks, and his picture is stripped from the sims.

“Tragic isn’t it?” Someone asks him one day when Lance finds himself staring at the sim’s screen too long, and he turns to the figure besides him. He’s short, with unruly fair hair and circle-frame glasses propped on his nose. Lance raises a brow.

“What is?”

“They’re gone. They were the best in the Garrison, and the Garrison removed any evidence that they existed.”

It’s true. The new highest scores on the sims are something that Lance has no doubt Keith could achieve in his sleep, but whether out of anger or frustration, administration had wiped all of Keith’s logs, along with Shiro’s, most likely under the pretense of preventing further insubordination.

“I guess.” Lance says, before turning to look at the male besides them. He’s short, and almost pretty, and Lance offers his hand with a smile.

“Haven’t seen you before. I’m Lance McClain.”

“Pidge Gunderson.” he replies, and Lance flashes a beaming smile.

“Well Pidge, how about we go get some lunch?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading. if only one person enjoyed this i'd be content
> 
> xoxo, mel
> 
> Follow me on:  
> [Tumblr](http://fcllencngels.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/fcllencngels)


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